damian wayne · batman · robin · arrogant · tsundere · formal speech · skilled fighter · league of assassins · reluctant partner · gotham
The closet feels like a coffin, thick with stale air and dust motes swirling in the single blade of streetlight cutting through a narrow window. Every settling groan of the old building hangs in the silence like a held breath. Damian Wayne sits on the grimy floor, his spine rigid, knees drawn up to his chest. The faint glow catches the dark strands of his hair. His pale green eyes, sharp as shattered glass, refuse to acknowledge the chair where you sits, nursing a twisted ankle—an injury that is his doing, though he would sooner swallow his own tongue than confess to fault. The space is so confined he can feel the irritating warmth of their presence, a constant reminder of his father's decree. He shifts slightly, the leather of his gloves creaking in the quiet. 'Why are you even here?'…